


idk you yet

by uselace



Series: teammates, soulmates, lifemates, roommates. [1]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Gay, Gay Panic, PREATH - Freeform, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tobin is a mess, a WHOLE lot of fluff, christen is oblivious, emily sonnett loves waffle house, kelley puts up with these two idiots, so'hara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:04:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23835157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uselace/pseuds/uselace
Summary: the soulmate AU nobody asked for.in which Christen's soulmate could be anybody she plays in soccer, and Tobin's soulmate is a literal angel named Christen Press who she's too scared to talk to.(Christen has given up. Tobin is a gay mess who has no idea how to tell Christen that her soulmate beat her for the NCAA title.)
Relationships: Kelley O'Hara/Emily Sonnett, Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Series: teammates, soulmates, lifemates, roommates. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850812
Comments: 40
Kudos: 388





	1. before.

**Author's Note:**

> heavily inspired by IDK You Yet by Alexander 23, because i'm a huge romantic and that song makes me feel strangely relaxed. au in which the first words your soulmate will say to you are tattooed somewhere, also slight au because kelley is in college a year longer (i did my research, but also i'm too lazy to make sure it's perfect so if there are mistakes/the timeline is all fucky, it's all au babeyyy). lil' angsty in the first chapter but second chapter will be pure fluff, i promise.
> 
> written over a couple days and unedited, so i apologize in advance if any areas seem weird. i just had the idea and wanted to get it out into the world. enjoy!

————

_ How can you miss someone you’ve never met? _

————

Christen is fairly sure she’s never going to find her soulmate. 

But the thing is—she’s fine with it. Yes, it took her years of meditation and longing and watching as the people she grew up with found their soulmates. But really—she has soccer now, which takes up basically all her time anyway. Between classes, and Kelley’s antics, and practicing, she doesn’t have enough time to worry about what the rest of her life will look like without a soulmate.

Christen is the exception to everything. She’s learned to accept that, because otherwise—with “good game” scrawled across her upper arm, the first words her likely non-existent soulmate will say to her—she would never find peace. She’s accepted that no matter how many people she plays (and she’s played a lot, been across the country and hopes to go around the world), it’s more likely than not that none of them will be the one.

(The truth is, she nearly destroyed herself over it in high school, agonized over which opponent had her words inked on their body. She was always the last one on the field, always hoping that someone would come back and tell her they were soulmates. Nobody did, and Christen came to realize that maybe nobody ever will.) 

Even now, two years into her college career and leading the cardinals to win after win, not a single person has come back for her. Her only consolation is that Kelley, one of her best friends and another Stanford leader, hasn’t found her soulmate either—then again, “God, I miss Waffle House” isn’t exactly a common conversation starter. 

“At least your soulmate could be anywhere,” Kelley complains one night as they get ready for a game against UNC, one that’s sure to be a tough match-up. “Obsessed with breakfast food is a weirdly specific trait. Like, seriously, Chris, how many fucking people talk about Waffle House the minute they meet someone?” 

The green-eyed woman just laughs, pulling socks over cleats and trying to get in the zone. “But you’ll know when you meet your soulmate,” she says quietly. “Mine could be literally anyone on that field.” 

“Maybe it’s Tobin Heath, I seem to remember someone calling her ‘hot’,” Kelley taunts with her tongue sticking out. 

“Shut up, O’Hara,” Christen mutters in response. “We have a game to focus on.” 

They tie the game, 1-1.

Despite herself, Christen waits on the field. She stands there until people start leaving, filtering out of the stands. She stands there until it’s almost too cold, then stays a little bit longer. The only thing that keeps her from staying until the sun drops completely is Kelley walking out of the locker room, sent to collect her so the team’s bus can leave. “You’ll find her eventually,” the shorter woman whispers with a hand on the small of Christen’s back, guiding her aching legs into the warmth of the locker room. Because somehow Kelley seems to know—knows why she stayed on the field, why she still makes sure to greet every one of their opponents. 

“What if she never comes, Kel?” 

“Trust me, that woman would be fucking insane to leave you,” Kelley snorts. “Pressy, you’re a catch. Besides, I’ll always be here. You’re stuck with me, after all.” Christen can’t help but laugh as the freckled woman jabs a finger into her rib cage, tickling her until a smile stays on her face. “Seriously, though—if I didn’t know my Waffle House warrior was out there somewhere, I might just pretend to be your soulmate.” 

Christen rolls her eyes at that. And in the blink of an eye, she’s managed to convince herself once again that she’s fine.

She leaves the stadium that night and convinces herself that nothing will come of it. 

Despite Kelley’s encouragements, nothing does. 

————

Tobin doesn’t know what to do. 

She should probably be happy about it. The thought occurs in the back of her mind as she pulls up her jersey in the locker room, checking that the words wrapped around her ribcage haven’t changed. She doesn’t know how to feel when they haven’t, “that was a great nutmeg” still inked permanently in her skin. 

Because—really, how many people compliment her on nutmegs? How many people except for the green-eyed Stanford player even notice that type of thing? 

Tobin knows she has to do something. That going back out to the field, talking to the player is realistically the only option. But her hands are shaking, and she’s all sweaty and she just played a full 90 minutes, so instead she makes her way to the showers and tries to stop herself from having a panic attack. 

Besides, even if she did try to seek out the player (Press, she faintly remembers), what would she do? How do you just go up to someone and say “I think we might be soulmates?”

(The answer is she doesn’t. She pushes down the image of number 23 and tries her hardest to focus on not face-planting as she leaves the stadium. She lies in bed that night and tries to stop the regret pooling in her stomach, tries to forget she even heard the words and stops herself from tracing over those very same words tattooed on her body.) 

It’s pretty safe to say that the next day Tobin feels like shit. She spent the entire night dreaming of green eyes and cardinal red, her brain conjuring up thousands of different scenarios in which she didn’t chicken out. When she’s awake it’s not much better; she can’t seem to think about anything other than soulmates and nutmegs, going through her day in a daze. 

When nothing else works, she turns to her teammates. “I—um, I need your help,” she announces one day to Ashlyn, who she managed to drag out for coffee. 

“If this has anything to do with you being all spacey, I’ll try my best. What’s been up with you, dude?” 

Tobin just grimaces, fidgeting with a napkin as she tries to figure out how to explain what happened. “So—well, actually… um…” the younger woman trails off when she realizes that she has no fucking idea how to phrase what she needs to say. (“I think I left my soulmate behind” might be even worse than “I think we might be soulmates”.)

Ashlyn just sits there, waiting for Tobin to spit it out, and somehow it makes her feel worse. Tobin must spend ten minutes trying to stutter her way through a single sentence before the blonde finally takes pity on her. “How about to start I just ask you questions and you say yes or no?” Tobin nods gratefully, and Ash takes a second before asking “Does it have something to do with school?”

“Well—kind of?”

“Yes or no, Toby.” 

“No,” Tobin replies after a minute of trying to puzzle through the mess in her head. Ashlyn just hums, looking her up and down and clearly trying to think of another question. 

“Okay then. Is it soccer-related?” 

“Yes,” she answers without missing a beat this time. 

Ash looks intrigued, leaning forward as she takes a slow sip of coffee. Tobin feels like she’s under a microscope, but for once she’s not completely spaced out thinking about Press so she doesn’t mind. “Let’s see… we played Stanford last, is it something to do with that?” 

“Yes.” Tobin moves her hands under the table to hide the fact that they’re shaking, because Ashlyn is still staring intently at her and she doesn’t quite know how to feel about the fact that the other woman is getting closer to the source of her problems. 

“Hmm. Is it because you think you didn’t play well? Because we tied? Or is it about that player… number 23, I think, from Stanford? Christen Press?” 

“No, no, and—” Tobin answers the rapid-fire questions with ease, until she registers the last one and stops herself. Because finally— _ Christen _ . She might finally know her soulmate’s name, and it steals the air from her lungs (it turns out that this isn’t helping at all, because suddenly Tobin is right back where she started, preoccupied with green eyes and 23 and  _ Christen _ ). 

Of course, the blonde doesn’t miss her hesitation. “So it’s about Christen,” she states, and all Tobin can seem to do is nod slowly. “What about her?” Ashlyn asks softly. 

Instead of answering, because she still doesn’t seem to be able to breathe properly, Tobin gets up and pulls Ashlyn to the coffee shop’s small bathroom. She ignores the jokes Ash makes, the way the other woman wiggles her eyebrows and wolf-whistles when Tobin starts to pull up her shirt. And then—

Then Ashlyn’s eyes go wide as she takes in the words over Tobin’s ribs. The other woman falls silent as she stares at the tattoo, then up at Tobin, then back down. Over and over, until finally she asks “Do you think it might be her?” 

All Tobin can do is nod. 

“Shit,” Ashlyn breathes. Tobin lets her shirt fall back down and sinks to the floor, staring up at the blonde and waiting for her to say something else. “Well—I mean, did you talk to her or something?”

“That’s why I need your help,” Tobin grimaces from the floor. She’s tempted to let her head fall into her hands, but that seems a little dramatic and besides, bathroom floors are disgusting. “Um, I didn’t know how to talk to her—to tell her. And I know I should have, but I left and I panicked and please just tell me what to do.”

“How about this,” the blonde starts as she joins Tobin on the floor. “At least to start, why don’t you write her a letter or something. And then you can either send it or wait until you play her again.” 

Tobin takes a minute to consider the idea, and it’s actually pretty good. “I think I will. Thanks, Ash.” They pull each other up from the floor, go back out into the shop and pack up their stuff. 

“I have a soulmate,” Tobin whispers at one point as she hugs Ashlyn goodbye. 

“You have a soulmate!” Ashlyn is grinning when they part. “Go get your girl, Toby.” 

After the talk, Tobin continues on with her life. The temptation to drop everything and fly to California is certainly there, but instead she writes and rewrites her letter to Christen. She spends her summer in New Jersey, catching up with family and working with the national team. 

Something about it seems different, though. She has to hold herself back from blurting out to her family that she’s found her soulmate, gets caught rewatching old Stanford games just so she can see Christen. It’s strange—even though the green-eyed woman (her  _ soulmate _ ) is on the other side of the country, Tobin feels like she already knows this woman she’s never properly met. It’s quite possible that she’s never been so excited to play a soccer game in her life. 

But then the season starts. And Tobin keeps up with Stanford, watches as number 23 has a phenomenal season, leading her team to the playoffs.

Unfortunately, that means they’ll have to play each other for the championship. 

Tobin finalizes her letter to Christen, has multiple people read it over to make sure it’s not too stalker-y. She goes over film with the team that turns out to be useless to her, because all she can focus on is Christen. She practices harder than ever leading up to the game, puts all her nervous energy over finally meeting her soulmate into soccer.

And it all pays off, because they win. 

Out of the corner of her eye, though, Tobin sees Christen sitting on the bench, head in her hands, uniform grass-stained. She thinks about the letter that Kelley has, with instructions to give it to Christen. They win, but all Tobin can think about that night is green eyes watery with tears.

For the first time in her life, Tobin wants something more than winning. 

————

When Tobin calls her the night before the NCAA final, asking to meet at a nearby diner, Kelley can’t hide her surprise. There’s no reason for her opponent to be calling her, but Kelley agrees to meet the minute Tobin tells her that it’s about Christen. 

Kelley doesn’t quite know what to expect. They’re friends, sure, after being youth national teammates; it’s just that they’ve never really talked at all outside of soccer. Tobin never really showed an interest in anything outside of soccer. So being asked out of the blue to meet at a random diner—well, Kelley can’t figure out what Tobin could possibly want, doesn’t know what to make of the fact that they’re meeting. 

“I need you to do something for me,” Tobin says the minute Kelley sits down across from her in a booth. The other woman looks nervous, playing with her hands. There’s an envelope sitting on the table in front of her, but Tobin just clears her throat and pushes it forward slightly when Kelley shoots her a questioning look. “So—look, this is gonna sound really weird.”

“However weird it sounds, I’ve probably done or said something weirder,” Kelley promises, and Tobin laughs slightly, relaxes her shoulders the slightest bit. 

“Um, well. The thing is—” the UNC player sighs and looks into the distance for a second, seemingly trying to collect her thoughts. “I need you to give this to Christen,” she says after a beat as she pushes the envelope further toward Kelley. 

They sit in silence for a second before Kelley breaks, her curiosity getting the best of her. “Do I get to ask questions about this?”

“You get two questions.” 

“What’s in it?”

Tobin avoids her eyes while Kelley waits for an answer, back to being just as nervous as when the Stanford player walked in. “It’s a letter.” 

“And why should I give this to Christen right before the final?” Kelley can’t hide her suspicion, because as much as she loves Tobin, Christen is her best friend; Kelley has put herself in charge of “protecting” the green-eyed woman over the years and she sure as hell isn’t going to stop now. 

“I never said to do it right before the final,” Tobin replies anxiously. “I just—please, it’s really important. I just need you to give it to her.” 

Kelley finally concedes after that, because something about the look in Tobin’s eyes and the way she’s fidgeting with the hem of her shirt makes the Stanford player take pity on her. “I will.”

And Kelley really does intend to give Christen the letter. The thing is—

The thing is they lose. They weren’t supposed to lose. Kelley feels like a complete asshole when she gets sent off the field, and Christen is destroyed when she finally joins Kelley in the locker room. Neither of them can watch a soccer match voluntarily for nearly a month after that, and at first Christen can’t even make herself practice. 

So the letter sits untouched at the bottom of Kelley’s suitcase. She almost forgets about it, until one day she’s clearing her bag out before a preseason game. And there it is—white paper glaring up at Kelley, still containing whatever was so important to Tobin. She feels like a terrible friend when she sees it (and maybe she is), but she also knows that Christen probably doesn’t really want anything to do with Tobin for a while. 

Still, she promised.

The letter makes its way to its rightful owner soon after Kelley finds it. She tries to give Christen an explanation, tells her it’s from Tobin Heath, but the green-eyed woman only stays silent and Kelley knows that the letter will most likely remain unread. They don’t talk about it after it changes hands, and Kelley never presses her for details. Because Christen is still hurting, as much as she tries to hide it, and Tobin couldn’t possibly do anything to fix that. 

They get wrapped back up in soccer when the season starts. Kelley watches Christen go on to have an amazing season, even though every time she sees Tobin at a national team camp or other commitment she has to shrug apologetically. She sees the hope in Tobin’s eyes die every single time, and every time she feels terrible. 

All of it makes her wonder what was in the letter, if Christen ever read it. 

Then she catches the words on Tobin’s ribs one day after a national team practice, words that she overheard after that very first game they played against UNC. And maybe—

Maybe Kelley knows what was in the letter. Maybe it was more important than she could have ever imagined. 

————

Christen has a strange feeling when she sees Tobin Heath again in the NCAA final. She can’t seem to take her eyes off of the UNC player, blushing profusely when Tobin catches her staring and smiles shyly. She pushes the feeling down, though, because she has a match to focus on. 

That match might be the hardest 90 minutes of Christen’s life until that point. 

North Carolina gets ahead early, something their coach had specifically warned against. And even though Christen takes shot after shot, doing everything she can to even the score, nothing is connecting. 

In the 72nd minute Kelley gets a red card.

It’s then that Christen knows—

They’re done. 

In the 89th minute she scores, lets herself hope for just a minute. But it’s ruled offside, and just like that they’ve lost. 

Everything she’s worked for over her college career, all of it seems to fall apart over the span of 90 minutes. 

She blocks out the rest of the night, except for one moment that she remembers vividly—she’s sitting on the bench, trying not to break down, when she feels someone’s eyes on her. Across the field is Tobin, standing still while the rest of her teammates celebrate. Christen can’t bring herself to return the sympathetic nod that Tobin sends her way, though. Instead she gets up and walks off the field, eager to scrub all her shame off in the shower. 

For once in her life, Christen doesn’t wait on the field. 

Stanford never plays UNC again in the time Christen has left at the college. And Christen is fine with that, because it means she doesn’t have to be reminded of her failure. Despite the loss, she goes on to have an incredible senior year, winning the Hermann trophy and making her way to the finals once again, bringing back the win this time. 

Tobin doesn’t cross her mind again after late summer that year, just before her final season with Stanford, when Kelley gives her an envelope with Tobin’s signature scrawled messily across it. The only thing Kelley says is that Christen should probably read it, but for some reason Christen can never bring herself to. Instead it stays in a drawer in her childhood bedroom, all but forgotten. 

Christen manages to keep Tobin out of her head until 2011, when the magicJack plays the Sky Blue for the first time. It’s been nearly two years since they’ve seen each other, but the second Christen steps onto the pitch she gets that same strange feeling she had at the final. Tobin isn’t even playing, out with a hurt ankle, but still Christen is aware of her presence on the bench. 

They tie 2-2. 

She doesn’t stay on the field for longer than she has to after the game. That tradition (if you can call it that) stopped after their loss to UNC. Now she tends to hang back a bit if people want her autograph, otherwise heading straight back to the locker room. 

This time, though, someone stops Christen before she can reach the locker room. It’s Tobin, shifting awkwardly and looking nervous. “Hey,” she says after a too-long silence.

“Um, hi,” Tobin replies quietly. “Sorry, I just wanted to say—you looked really good out there.”

At first Christen is taken aback at the compliment, but then she’s smiling for the first time since the game ended. “Thanks. I would have liked a rematch, though. It’s a shame about your ankle.” 

Tobin just smiles shyly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah, I would have liked that too. No hard feelings about the final, right?” And Christen can’t imagine a universe in which someone could stay mad at the endearingly awkward woman standing before her, so she steps forward to wrap Tobin in a quick hug. 

“No hard feelings,” she agrees as they separate. Tobin looks like she wants to say something more, but nothing else comes out, so Christen assumes they’re done and with a friendly wave turns to head into the locker room. 

“Wait.” The other woman’s voice is a little shaky, and maybe that’s what makes Christen turn around once more. “Did you—did you ever read that letter I gave to Kelley?”

“Um, no, sorry,” Christen admits. Tobin looks crestfallen, but she forces a smile and shrugs stiffly. “What was in it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, nothing. Just congratulating you on making it to the finals.” She must catch Christen’s guilty look, because she waves a hand dismissively even as the sadness in her eyes gives her away. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later.” 

Christen is left watching as Tobin walks away, hunched over in a way that reminds her of herself after losing the final. “Yeah, see you later,” she finally says quietly after Tobin has turned a corner. 

Her hand instinctively rubs the words curled around the top of her arm as she makes her way into the locker room, words from a soulmate she’d given up on years ago. She tries not to think about the way Tobin’s eyes found the words, stared at them as they separated from the hug. She tries not to let herself wonder if the glance means anything. 

Later that night she calls Kelley. The two Stanford alums have kept steady contact since they graduated, even as Kelley gets call-ups from the national team and Christen gets nothing, not even acknowledgement. 

“She was just being so weird, Kel,” Christen says at one point after their conversation moves to Tobin. 

“I wouldn’t read too much into it, Pressy. Tobin is Tobin, and she’s not exactly the most eloquent person to begin with,” Kelley says easily from the other side of the line, but something about her voice makes Christen feel like everyone knows something she doesn’t. “Anyway, I heard you had a good game today.”

“We tied,” Christen mutters, and just like that they’re back to safety, away from Tobin. 

magicJack plays the Sky Blue twice more after that, and each time Christen does the best she can to stay away from Tobin. 

Over the 2011 season, Christen starts getting that feeling—that everyone is in on a secret but her—more and more, particularly from the national team players. It drives her insane, makes her second-guess herself constantly. She turns to soccer to get her frustrations out, and by the end of the season she’s become the first rookie to get a hat-trick, been named the Federation’s Rookie of the Year.

But she still doesn’t get a call-up to the national team. And that makes it easy to sign with a team in Sweden when the WPS folds. 

In Sweden, she can breath. She’s away from Tobin, away from the letter, away from everything that’s been stressing her out for the last few months. She’s not constantly worried about being called-up, not worrying about whatever secret every other player knows. And, maybe the best part—she doesn’t have to worry about soulmates. 

Whoever her soulmate turns out to be, they’re not here (the words on her arm are in English, so realistically they’re likely back in the US). 

Christen finds that she’s strangely fine with it. 

————

Tobin knows she’s fucking this up. 

It’s just—

Well, it’s just that Christen didn’t read the letter. She didn’t open it, never cared enough to look at it. And maybe that’s worse than reading it and then not saying anything. 

What makes it even worse is that somehow Kelley found out about everything, about the fact that Tobin has known who her soulmate is for years and never done anything (which, okay, is admittedly very stupid, but when Tobin can’t be around Christen without panicking it’s kind of hard to fess up). But now Tobin has to deal with Kelley, which will inevitably only add to her own anxieties. 

(Not to mention that once Kelley knows a secret, it’s not long until Alex knows, and then by the time next camp rolls around the entire national team will know.) 

Unfortunately, the spreading of her secret happens sooner than she anticipates. Soon after the Sky Blue’s game against magicJack, Tobin gets a call from Lauren and Amy. “Tobin, what’s going on with the stanford player?”

“I, um… what have you heard is going on?” She cringes at how stupid she must sound, but at the other end of the line her friends barrel on without mentioning it.

“Well, we heard that you might know who your soulmate is and that you’ve done nothing about it. For nearly three years?” Amy is indignant, and Tobin can picture the way she would be scowling if they had met in person. 

“It’s not—”

“Don’t you dare tell us it’s not like that,” Lauren chimes in. “Sit down. We’re gonna figure out how to tell this poor girl she’s not going to be alone forever.” 

And they do just that. By the time her friends hang up nearly three hours later, Tobin has a list of what she needs to do in order to tell Christen ( _ be in person, actually talk to her, just fucking do it _ ). For the first time since they met, Tobin feels like she might be prepared enough to go through with it. 

But after all her preparation, in a turn of events nobody expected, Christen becomes the problem. 

Tobin can’t figure it out. They were friendly, the last time they talked. As far as she can tell, she wasn’t too weird, didn’t give anything away. Except she plays Christen twice more, and the younger woman doesn’t seem to want to be around her either time. Tobin feels like she’s right back where she started, as she sits in the locker room after their third game against the magicJack, staring down at her ribs.

Just like that—she doesn’t know what to do. 

It goes downhill quickly from there. In January the league folds, and for a solid month Tobin feels like the world is closing in on her. Because where would she go? She doesn’t have anything except soccer, not even her soulmate because she’s been too afraid to do anything. The hardest part, though, might be Christen; Tobin knows that the other woman is probably just as scared and lost, and it kills her that she can’t do anything about it. 

Slowly, everything comes back together. She signs with the New York Fury, and with a job she feels a little more steady on her feet. Steady enough even to ask Kelley for Christen’s number one night, because if there’s anything the league folding taught her it’s that nothing is certain. 

Instead Kelley calls her. “You haven’t heard, huh?”

Tobin can’t hide her confusion as she tries to figure out what Kelley could possibly be talking about. “What would I have heard?”

“Christen’s in Sweden.”

She needs to sit down. It feels like the news nearly knocks her off her feet. A country was bad enough, but this—

This makes Tobin feel like something was physically ripped from her chest.  _ Sweden _ . Even if she managed to confess, even if Christen took the news well, how the fuck would they cross an ocean? That same feeling she had when the league died is back— _ where does she go from here? _

Kelley’s voice snaps Tobin back to reality. “Tobin, you gotta breathe. I’m too young to be charged with manslaughter.” 

“I’m pretty sure it would be murder,” Tobin laughs weakly even as she realizes that tears are starting to pool in the corners of her eyes. “What… how do I do this?”

She feels so defeated, sitting with her head in her hands, that at first she doesn’t even register that she’s voiced her thoughts aloud. “Honestly, I don’t know,” Kelley sighs. “Look, I’ve known you both for a long time. And yeah, you probably should have done this whole thing sooner. But Pressy—she’s lasted a long time without a soulmate. She can make it another year until they get a league running. You, on the other hand, are a different story. Tobin, this is about you. I think it always has been. What do you have to be afraid of, really? If you ask me, this is going to keep eating you up until you do something. Look at it this way—don’t do it for Christen. Do it for yourself.” 

Something seems to click, then. All this time she’s been thinking about Christen, Tobin is the one who knows who her soulmate is and has been living without her. She’s the one who’s fallen a little bit more in love with Christen every time they see each other. And Kelley is right—Christen hasn’t even discovered the possibility that she might need Tobin. But for Tobin, being an ocean apart from her soulmate makes it harder to breathe.

She’s made up her mind. “I’m going to need a favor.”

After Tobin puts a plan into action, waiting for the result is torture. She should’ve known that it wouldn’t be easy, but she never anticipated it being  _ this _ hard. Kelley gets in the routine of sending her daily reminders so she doesn’t freak out:  _ it’ll be okay _ .

Then, finally, Christen gets her first call-up.

And when she shows up at the hotel, envelope in hand, Tobin feels like she’s meeting her soulmate all over again (because in a way, she is). Christen looks around, searching for Tobin, and smiles softly when their eyes meet. 

“Hey,” Christen says as she walks over. “I got your letter.”

Tobin knows that she’ll never get a fourth (fifth? She’s lost count) chance at this again. So she pats the seat next to her, returning Christen’s timid smile. “We should talk.”


	2. after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((((completely unrelated to the story or preath but if you're in the us, please take just a couple minutes to text "Floyd" to 55156 to sign a petition for the officers involved w/ george floyd's death to be prosecuted. i can't do the topic justice here but it's safe to say that i really want to move to canada.))))
> 
> whoop, sorry this took so long. also, i totally lied - this chapter is also somewhat angsty (but very fluffy as well). 
> 
> same as before - pretty much unedited and written over like two weeks so if it seems weird that's why. i didn't include the 2019 world cup because otherwise it would have been hella long and also it took me long enough to finish this without adding four extra years to write about lol. 
> 
> feel free to comment any thoughts/feelings, and i hope you enjoy!

**** ————

_ But can you find me soon because I’m in my head? _

————

Everything is different now.

And as Christen takes a seat next to Tobin, her hands still tightly gripping the envelope from so many years ago, she doesn’t quite know what to make of any of it. Reading the letter for the first time—well, she couldn’t wrap her head around any of the words. So she read it a second, third, fourth time, and even then she couldn’t quite believe that she  _ finally _ found her soulmate (or rather, her soulmate finally found her).

“What are you thinking?” Tobin asks quietly. The other woman is playing with her hands, clearly nervous, but when their eyes meet she attempts a smile anyway. 

“I… I don’t know,” Christen answers honestly. “I’m still trying to process that I actually have a soulmate.”

Tobin’s gaze is anxious now, and Christen is tempted to reach out and take her hand but decides against it when she starts to speak again. “You weren’t mad? I mean, that I waited so long?”

“Maybe a little, at first. But—I think I understand. Or I’m trying to.” Tobin’s face relaxes, and it occurs to Christen for the first time that she’s fucking gorgeous. “Tell me something,” Christen says before she can talk herself out of it.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, soulmates should probably get to know each other, huh?” She’s smiling, and Tobin is quick to return it. Christen is hit with a wave of happiness, because after all this time it’s finally happening. This is real. “Tell me something about yourself.”

Tobin takes a minute to think. “Last week I walked into a pole because I got distracted looking at a rainbow.” A blush rises on her cheeks when Christen immediately bursts out laughing. “It was just a pretty rainbow,” she mutters.

“I don’t doubt that it was pretty, I just wasn’t expecting Tobin Heath, soccer superstar, telling me she walks into poles.” Tobin just grins dopily as Christen finally starts to calm down. “Seems like I have a lot left to learn about you.”

“Same goes for you—” Tobin is cut off mid-sentence as Dawn appears out of nowhere to usher them to their rooms, citing an early practice and needing sleep. “Well, good night, I guess.” She steps forward and pulls Christen into a hug. It’s unexpected in the best way, and Christen immediately melts into the older woman’s arms. 

“Kelley has my number,” Christen says softly as they separate. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With a peck on Tobin’s cheek, she turns and heads into her room. Megan, her roommate, gives her a weird look when she collapses onto the bed with a wide smile, but Christen couldn’t care less. She goes through her nighttime routine checking her phone constantly, waiting for a text from Tobin. And finally, it comes. 

_ [Tobin] you never got to tell me something about yourself _

_ [Christen] When I was a kid I would always collect worms after it rained and throw them back in the grass to make sure nobody killed them. _

_ [Tobin] kelley wants me to inform you that worms are disgusting and you put the rest of us to shame with your “angelness” _

_ [Christen] Tell her to remember that I’m the only one here with proper blackmail material (like that time she got drunk and got caught in her own squirrel trap). _

_ [Tobin] HAHAHHAHA i can tell we’re going to get along well  _

_ [Tobin] good night christen :) _

_ [Christen] Good night :) _

Her first camp ends up being surprisingly uneventful. Despite the numerous texts she and Tobin exchange, practice takes up so much of their time that they don’t actually get to talk. Christen practices her heart out, pushing her body to the limits—now that she’s finally gotten her chance there’s no way she’s willing to let it go. Years of getting passed up by the national team has left her desperate to prove herself, and it’s almost like Tobin can sense her anxiety surrounding the camp. 

“You’re doing so good,” the other woman murmurs at one practice after Christen sinks a ball into the back of the net. She whispers back a “thanks”, brushing it off and trying to ignore the blush rising on her cheeks.

It doesn’t matter what Tobin says, though. In the back of her mind is a steady stream of  _ not good enough _ , of thoughts like  _ there’s nothing stopping them from throwing you away again _ . Christen fends them off by practicing harder, staying and taking shots on the goal even after everyone else has left.

The fifth day of camp, Christen is doing just that. Starters for the friendly tomorrow were announced, with her name on the list. She should be excited. Instead she just feels shaky and unsteady, like she might throw up or have a panic attack (or both) at any minute.

Shot after shot goes into the goal. Somehow none of them make her feel better. They’re always the slightest bit off, just a little too far to the left or right. Dusk is settling around her and her legs are shaking like they might give out, but still she keeps shooting. The game has to go well, she has to score, earn her place, prove to everyone—

“Hey.” The voice startles her out of her thoughts, forcing her to stop mid-shot. Christen recognizes Tobin’s (her  _ soulmate’s _ ) voice even before she steps out of the shadows of the stadium they’ve been practicing in. “Kelley said I would find you here,” Tobin says quietly as she starts retrieving balls from the net.

Christen doesn’t do anything for a minute, frozen to her spot as Tobin calmly juggles a ball a few feet away. “Um… what are you doing here? I don’t want to be rude, but…” 

Tobin laughs at that, catches the ball in the air and walks the last few feet to Christen. “It’s pretty obvious you were freaked out about starting. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she says with a frown on her face. “Christen, you need to sit down. You look like you’re about to collapse.” In all fairness, she probably is about to collapse, so she heeds Tobin’s advice and sinks down to the ground.

As soon as her skin makes contact with grass, it’s like all the energy seeps out of her body. Every limb is exhausted, and Christen feels like she might not be able to get up after this. Tobin just sits cross-legged next to Christen, staring up at the sky. 

“I don’t know what you’re so worried about,” the older woman starts after a long pause. She cards a hand through her hair, looking down at Christen. “Seriously, Chris, you’re an incredible player. It’s insane that it took this long for you to get a call-up. You’re gonna blow everyone away tomorrow.”

It’s so stupid—it’s just a compliment, but suddenly tears are pricking at the corner of her eyes. Tobin is being so sincere, looking at Christen with a softness in her eyes that makes Christen turn away before she starts bawling. They lapse back into silence, because Christen can’t figure out how to tell Tobin that compared to every other player on this team she feels so thoroughly inadequate. 

The sky darkens, but still they sit until crickets start chirping and stars appear. Tobin stays right next to her, quiet but  _ there _ . Eventually, under the cover of darkness, Tobin’s hand starts to brush hers. Christen’s breath catches, but she uses the last of her strength to flip her palm up and lace their fingers together.

With Tobin’s hand in hers, the whirlwind in her mind quiets, just for a minute.

They only vacate the field when Christen starts visibly shivering in the night cold. Their hands stay intertwined all the way back to the hotel, where Tobin wraps her in a tight hug.

“You’re going to do amazing, Chris,” she whispers into Christen’s neck. “Trust me.” 

And somehow, Christen does.

She takes the field the next day, sore and still unsteady. But Tobin is by her side all throughout warm-ups, never touching but close enough that Christen can sense her presence. They hug again just before the game starts, and Christen feels safe, a feeling that she hasn’t had in soccer since she was a kid. 

Twice that game she scores. Both times Tobin shoots across the field, lightning-fast just so that she can be the first one to hug Christen. 

Finally the whistle blows. Christen takes a breath, letting the tension leave her limbs. She played in her first game for the national team. She scored. And on top of it all, she has a soulmate; a soulmate who’s across the field, shaking hands with the other team. When Christen catches her gaze, the other woman simply mouths “I told you so” with a gleam in her eye. 

A smile takes over Christen’s face, and for the first time in years, she thinks maybe—

Maybe she would be alright with losing as long as Tobin was there with her. 

————

_ [Tobin] good game!!! _

_ [Chris] Thanks, I’m exhausted though.  _

_ [Tobin] you seriously did amazing _

_ [Tobin] also i have big news _

_ [Christen] ??? _

_ [Christen] Spit it out Heath. _

Christen picks up on the first ring, and Tobin grins as soon as she hears the other woman’s sleepy “hello?” across the line. 

“Hey, Chris,” she says softly, glad that Kelley isn’t in the room because otherwise she would be catching some serious shit for the huge smile on her face. It’s no accident that Christen is the first person she’s told her news to—after all, Tobin could barely sit through the Swedish game, nearly vibrating with excitement. 

“What’s this big news?”

Tobin takes a breath, still grinning. “I got signed by PSG. I’m gonna be just a couple days’ drive away.” 

There’s a pause from the other end, and Tobin thinks she might burst if the other woman doesn’t say something soon. “Holy shit, Tobin!” She finally exclaims, and Tobin immediately bursts out laughing. 

“That might be the first time I’ve ever heard you swear,” Tobin teases. 

“Oh, shut up,” Christen grumbles, but soon enough she’s laughing along with Tobin. “I can’t believe you’re gonna be so close,” she adds, and even though they’ll still be 25 hours away, it’s a hell of a lot better than being separated by an ocean. 

“Me neither.” 

“Stay here while I fall asleep?” Christen asks, breaking the comfortable silence they’ve fallen into. Tobin just hums a yes, busying herself making coffee while Christen’s breaths get slower and deeper across the ocean. It feels just a little bit perfect, watching the sun rise and knowing that soon enough, she and Christen will be able to watch the same sunrises.

It feels like Tobin might be just a little bit in love.

And—really, it was bound to happen, eventually. Just not so soon. With everything going on, national team call-ups and club games, they haven’t gotten to sit down and talk about what this—being soulmates—means. Because it means something different to every person, and Tobin realizes now that she can only pray it means the same thing to Christen. 

She busies herself with packing for Paris to keep from wondering if Christen will feel the same way. It’s futile, but it definitely compels her to pack much quicker than she normally would. 

Until one day, going through old boxes and papers, she comes across one of the very first drafts of the letter she wrote to her soulmate.

_ Dear Christen, _

_ You might not remember me, but we’ve met before. That’s why I’m writing this, actually _ — _ we played each other, and you said something to me. And there’s not really an easy way to say this, but I think we might be soulmates. Now that I know, I can’t stop thinking about you. It feels like a part of me is missing, and I barely even know you. But what I do know _ —

The letter cuts off there, frustrated scribbles filling the rest of the page. Even then, when her hands were shaking and she kept dropping the pen out of nerves, she had felt a pull towards Christen. She still remembers the night that UNC won the championship, can still feel Christen’s eyes boring into her from across the field. 

No matter what happens from here, she’s not going to wait another three years to tell Christen how she feels. She still remembers her train of thought when she was writing the letter:  _ what I do know is that I want to do it all with you. I want to win world cups, and Olympic medals. _ Tobin’s always been a dreamer. It’s just that now someone else has made her way into all of her dreams. 

That season, Tobin gets to see dreams come true in real time. She watches a young American, Lindsey Horan, play her heart out with PSG (but she also becomes the one Lindsey cries to, all those late nights when nobody else around will understand her). She watches Christen have an incredible season with Tyresö.

And finally, they face each other once more. 

PSG is standing in the way of Christen and Tyresö’s championship run. They play a tough game, but Tobin can’t stop her smile when Christen scores, and when she scores the second time Lindsey has to physically restrain her so that she doesn’t hug the other team’s player.

Tobin has never been more happy to lose; when they meet up after the game Christen shyly admits that she feels a hell of a lot better after their long-fated rematch. 

“I think I would do pretty much anything if it made you recognize how incredible you are,” Tobin blurts out suddenly. She can feel her face on fire as soon as she registers what she said, and Christen’s stare isn’t helping anything. “Sorry, I know we haven’t talked about this and you probably don’t even feel the same way—”

“I think you’re pretty incredible too,” Christen finally cuts her off. When Tobin manages to force herself to meet the other woman’s eyes, Christen is grinning softly. 

For the next couple days (weeks, if she’s being honest), Tobin can’t get that grin out of her head. She can’t shake the way Christen’s eyes met hers, the way the younger woman played with her fingers as they sat. She’s so distracted that when she makes her way back to the US to play for Portland, all she can think about is the distance that’s made its way back between her and her soulmate. 

“I miss you like crazy,” Christen admits one morning over FaceTime as she gets ready for bed while Tobin wakes up. It’s strange to be back in their old routine after months of being on the same schedule, but they’ve adjusted accordingly. 

“I miss you too,” Tobin says quietly over her cup of coffee. “Portland is incredible, but it would be so much better if you were even on the same continent.” The phone goes quiet for a moment as Christen brushes her teeth and hair, but Tobin doesn’t mind the pauses. If anything, she likes to just sit and watch Christen go through her routine. 

“So, about that,” Christen starts while she climbs into bed. “I’m not technically supposed to tell you this yet, but my agent has been talking to the Red Stars, and…” 

Tobin nearly spits out her coffee, she’s so surprised by the news. Now she knows how Christen felt when Tobin announced she was playing for PSG. “You’re not screwing with me, right? Allie isn’t going to pop out of my closet to scare me or some shit?” Christen just laughs from where she’s propped up against pillows. 

“No, I’m dead serious. Nothing’s for sure yet, but if it goes through we’ll get to play each other again.” There’s a tired lilt to her voice that’s impossible for Tobin to miss after all the time they’ve spent around or talking to each other. “I really hope it works out.” 

“Me too. Go to sleep, though, Chris. You can call me when you wake up.”

“M'kay,” the younger woman murmurs. “Good night, Tobin. I can’t wait to play you again.”

“Good night, Chris,” Tobin replies, smiling softly as Christen’s eyes start drifting shut on the screen. She goes about the rest of her morning routine while Christen falls asleep, only hanging up after half an hour of silence from the other end of the line. It’s become a tradition for them to fall asleep with each other, something that makes them feel connected despite the distance. 

The rest of Tobin’s season continues without interruption. Christen keeps her updated on any news from the Red Stars, while Tobin manages to lead the Thorns to the NWSL championship. They’re texting steadily, nearly every day even with the time difference. Harry has seized her chance on multiple occasions to relentlessly tease Tobin about the smile that she sports whenever she and Christen text. The day of the championship is no exception, with Christen leaving a string of texts for Tobin to find after the game.

_ [Chris] Good luck!!! _

_ [Chris] You’re going to do amazing. _

_ [Chris] That free kick, holy shit Tobin. _

_ [Chris] YOU WON!!!! _

_ [Chris] My soulmate is the MVP!  _

_ [Chris] I’m so fucking proud of you. _

Tobin’s smile is comically large when she finally manages to unlock her phone after the brunt of the celebration is over. She immediately seeks out the quietest corner of the locker room and calls Christen, determined to hear the other woman’s voice.

“Hey, champ!” Christen greets Tobin enthusiastically. 

“I won!” Is all Tobin seems capable of saying, which isn’t helped by the champagne still being sprayed across the locker room and Allie’s screaming. 

“Hell yeah you did!” There’s a pause from the phone, and then Christen’s voice comes back, softer this time. “Seriously, Tobin, that was incredible. I really am proud of you.” 

Somehow, hearing it from Christen means more than hearing it from anyone else possibly could. “Thank you,” Tobin murmurs. She sinks down against the locker room wall, content to observe her team and talk to her soulmate. “It would be better if you were here to celebrate,” she adds.

“I will be soon,” Christen promises from the other end of the line, and there’s a sly quality to her voice that Tobin can’t quite pinpoint the meaning of until—

There are so many things she wants to say, to ask, but finally Tobin settles on one. “It went through?!”

“It went through,” the other woman confirms. “I’m officially moving to Chicago.”

_ They’ll only be a couple days away again. _ Tobin feels like the breath has left her lungs, instead replaced with pure excitement. “I can’t believe it—Chris, oh my God—I’ll get to see you again.” 

“Slow down,” Christen laughs. “Go celebrate your championship, and then we can talk about the move.” 

But Tobin doesn’t want to celebrate the championship anymore, not when Christen will be so close again. Suddenly winning a championship, one of the main goals of her career, seems to pale in comparison to being closer to her soulmate. “Christen?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m so excited to see you again.”

_ (Read: I’m falling in love with you and I sure fucking hope you feel the same way.) _

————

Christen’s first year back in the US comes and goes without much incident. 

Tobin heavily disagrees with that, citing the team golden boot and second IX team ranking that Chris earned, but nonetheless the Red Stars finish in fifth and the younger woman journeys out to Portland for the offseason. 

Her time on the west coast, primarily spent training with Tobin, goes by quickly. They create a little bubble for themselves in the space of Tobin’s apartment, and Christen falls in love with the city (and with Tobin, something that’s been on the back of her mind for months but they haven’t acknowledged). 

“I wish you could stay longer,” Tobin murmurs one day as they lay in bed before training. She’s tracing the tips of her fingers along Christen’s tattoo, charting a path over the first moment they shared. 

“Me too.” Christen can barely contain a shiver as Tobin strokes her upper arm, all feather-light touches that leave goosebumps in their wake.

But before Christen can let out an audible sigh at the sensation, Tobin completely abandons the tattoo and instead flops on her back with a dramatic sigh. “Christen Press has greater things to do, though, huh? Gonna take the world by storm?” When Christen looks over after collecting her wits Tobin’s head is propped up on her elbow, a shit-eating grin completing the pose. 

“Only if you’ll be there to give me your amazing hugs,” Christen grins. It’s clearly a joke, but Tobin’s expression suddenly morphs into her serious face, eyebrows scrunched together and all. 

“You don’t need me, though,” she mutters. “I’m serious. You’re such an amazing player, and anyone who can’t see that is insane.” There’s a slight pause, filled only with Tobin’s eyes boring into Christen’s soul. “I’m serious,” she says once more, softer this time. “You’re gonna do great things. You’re gonna blow everyone away.” 

Tobin’s words bounce around in Christen’s head even after she returns to Chicago for the preseason.  _ You’re gonna blow everyone away _ . If she’s being honest, it makes her feel hot all over, makes her crave Tobin’s hands back on her arm like they had been in Portland. But also—

Nobody had ever told her that before. 

Or at least, nobody had ever quite said it with the total conviction that Tobin had; nobody had said it with that same intensity in their eyes that made Christen consider it might be true. 

She lets Tobin’s words carry her through the season, to Player of the Week and Player of the Month. She lets Tobin herself carry her through the season, marking down the days until they play Portland and they’ll get to see each other again. 

And then, finally, she lets Tobin carry her through the most important phone call of her life. She steals Julie’s phone just so that she can be facetiming Tobin the entire day. She watches as Tobin’s phone rings and she comes back smiling like she won the lottery. 

They sit together for hours before Christen gets her own call. “I told you, amazing,” mouths Tobin from the now-muted facetime call. Christen just sits there and tries not to hyperventilate, hands shaking as she answers the phone.

“Christen, I’m calling to let you know that you made the World Cup roster—”

It all cuts out after that. When she looks back, Christen will remember nothing but the tears filling her eyes and Tobin’s grin. In the moment, everything happens so fast that she can only hope she’s saying enough to not make her look like an idiot. Static seems to fill her head, nothing but  _ I made it I made I made it I made it I made it _ running on repeat. 

And then,  _ you’re gonna blow everyone away _ . 

“We’re going to the world cup!!” Tobin screams when Jill finally hangs up and Christen forces her shaking hands to unmute her soulmate.

“I—I can’t believe it,” she manages to choke out after a minute. Tobin is still celebrating, almost jumping up and down with excitement, but Christen just sits there shellshocked. Her hands have made their way up to her tattoo unconsciously, tracing over it just like Tobin did months ago. 

“I can,” Tobin says softly after a minute. “I can.” 

Shortly after that the team travels to Canada. They’re all determined to bring back the trophy they lost in 2011, and Christen can feel the pressure bearing down on her. All the attention is suffocating, but she tries her hardest to remember Tobin’s words.

(And, when all else fails, she can always find solace in Tobin’s arms at the end of the day.)

The whole thing is terrifying—

But she scores. 

She gets playing time.

Her mind quiets as she plays her heart out, because all that matters at that point is soccer.

Well, soccer, Tobin, and Kelley, who would kill Christen if she knew Tobin made the list and she didn’t. 

When the whistle finally blows on the last match of the tournament, Christen sprints to Tobin. She needs to be close to the other woman, to celebrate how far they’ve come.  _ World Cup champions _ .

Christen doesn’t quite plan it. She always thought it would be more romantic—but as the stadium erupts into cheers, and her teammates scream victoriously, she draws Tobin close and yells “I love you!” loud enough to carry over the noise.

Tobin looks shocked, for just a second. But then she picks Christen up, twirling her around, and yells back “I love you too! My soulmate just blew everyone away!”

They rest their foreheads together when Christen’s feet are back on the ground, forgetting about cameras and celebrations and anyone else but them. Confetti is raining down around them, the trophy being brought out, and really—

Christen thinks that it can’t get more perfect than this. 

————

2015 is a whirlwind—that’s really the only fitting description.

Kelley has always made it a habit to live vicariously through her friends, and  _ boy _ do Christen and Tobin deliver. It’s almost like they feel like they have to make up for lost time, something that results in a whole lot of cuddling and heart-eyes. 

(The entire thing is so disgustingly cute that their teammates, Kelley included, devise a plan to carry spray bottles in order to discourage the two soulmates. It never goes through, but as their best friend, Kelley is extremely tempted to find her own spray bottle—for her own protection, of course.)

She feels strangely disconnected, though. Now that Tobin and Christen have each other, they don’t call nearly as much; her ankles have been giving her problems, and of course there’s the ever-present worry about making the World Cup roster.

Not to mention that she still hasn’t found her Waffle House-loving soulmate.

It doesn’t bother her quite as much as Christen, mostly because she’ll definitely know when she meets her person. She can’t help but wonder, though—do they ever see her play? Do they know who she is? 

_ (Are they proud?) _

Fortunately, Kelley gets the callup. She sees Christen and her other national team friends a lot more in the camps leading up to Canada, and her ankle hasn’t been hurting as much. The disconnect goes away just in time for the World Cup.

And when she walks into the arena for the first time, Kelley feels a humming throughout her entire body. She feels  _ connected _ again, wholly excited to play for her country and bring home a trophy. 

She’s also realistic, though. She doesn’t expect much, especially after not being played for the first four games (the bright side is that she gets to watch Christen and Tobin being incredible, and she’s never been more happy for her friends). But then—

Then she scores.

_ She fucking scores. _

Watching the ball go into the net against Germany might just be the best moment of her life. 

Of course, winning the entire goddamn World Cup comes in at a very close second. 

Kelley rides the high of winning, of being an  _ essential part of winning _ , all the way to 2016. It feels like maybe everything is falling into place. She keeps getting regular callups, keeps playing well and playing hard. She falls in with the newer generation of players, claiming that they “keep her young” and constantly goofing around with them while her friends are off with their soulmates.

In the end, Kelley has to wait nearly four years longer than Christen to find her soulmate.

When it finally does happen, it's so unexpected that at first, Kelley doesn't even register it. It’s at a national team camp, part of preliminary training for that year’s Olympics. She's walking up to one of the rookies—a blonde defender who introduced herself as Sonnett and is surprisingly good at dancing. “So, you're a Georgia peach, huh?”

Sonny is nodding, smiling softly. “God, I miss waffle house.” Except-

Except then her eyes widen, and Kelley can tell that she must look just as shocked because “holy shit.”

Sonnett barks out a disbelieving laugh, averting her eyes as a flush makes its way up her neck. “I can't believe my soulmate is Kelley O'Hara,” she mutters.

“The one and only,” Kelley grins, and before she fully registers what she's doing her shorts are hiked around her thigh to display the words inked there. Sonnett just looks on in awe, bringing her hand forward like she wants to trace along Kelley's skin. “You can touch,” the older woman whispers. It feels strangely intimate even as they're surrounded by teammates, some of whom are bound to have noticed the two shocked women by now.

“Christ, those have to be the lamest first words,” Sonny laughs, and it's a real laugh this time, one that makes Kelley's heart melt even though she barely knows the woman who's fingertips are hovering above her tattoo.

“That's what I said!” They're both laughing now, drawing the attention of everyone around them. Christen is making her way over, and all it takes is Kelley pointing at Sonnett for the green-eyed woman to stop, looking back and forth between the two with a huge grin.

Soon enough the two are inseparable. The team starts calling them the “gremlins” instead of Kelley and Sonny, because apparently they’re always so close that there’s no point in differentiating. It takes a little while for the age difference weirdness to go away, but Kelley acts so much like a teenage boy that nobody looking on from the outside would ever know there was a difference to begin with. 

Being around Sonny is easy, Kelley discovers. They egg each other on, constantly hyping each other up and trying to outperform or out-prank the other. Kelley doesn’t have to worry about being anyone but herself, and knows that Sonny will encourage her no matter what.

She also, however, gets to see the younger player’s soft side, something that’s rare and reminds her that Sonnett is someone to be prized. One of those moments comes after Kelley makes the Olympic roster and her soulmate doesn’t. “I’m sorry, Kel, I should be happier for you,” Sonny says over the phone, and the sadness in her voice nearly breaks Kelley’s heart.

“Don’t say that Son. You have every right to be sad. We can celebrate later, or not at all,” Kelley says quietly, because she knows how hard it is to not get the callup, to not get to play. “I’m here for you, always. In whatever capacity you need—friend, teammate, soulmate. Tell me what you need, Em.” 

“You used my first name.” Sonny sounds shocked, and it makes Kelley laugh a little bit. She hadn’t realized it, but that might be the first time she’s used the younger woman’s first name in conversation. “Um, I know we haven’t talked about it, and you said you didn’t care if anything romantic happened or not, but, um…” 

It takes Kelley a minute to realize what’s going on, especially with all of Sonny’s trailing off. “Dude, are you asking if I want to be your girlfriend?” 

“...Maybe.”

“Fuck yes,” Kelley laughs. “Screw the Olympics, this is what we should be celebrating!” Emily’s laughter comes over the phone, and Kelley is just grateful that she managed to cheer the other woman up. “We’ll get through this, Son. You’re gonna get your chance, I guarantee it. And if you want to be romantic-stylez soulmates, I am one hundred percent in.”

“Did you just call us romantic-stylez with a z?” Sonnett is full-on laughing now, clearly judging Kelley. “You really are a frat boy.” 

“Hey!” Kelley protests indignantly. 

“No, I have nothing against it. I, too, would like to be romantic-stylez with you,” Sonny teases. Kelley has never regretted her word choice more. 

But she also knows in that moment—

This is who she’s meant to be with. And she can’t wait to spend the rest of her life with the blonde.

————

Tobin hates this. 

She hates that she had to see Christen going from the excitement of the World Cup to a crushing Olympic loss, and she hates that Christen is taking their loss entirely on her shoulders. 

After the PK, Christen curled in on herself. Tobin was the only person she would let into their hotel room, the only person she would let see her crying and breaking down. Tobin watched as all the confidence Chris had built up vanished, and dealt with the aftermath. 

Tobin took it upon herself to wrap the younger woman in as much love as she could muster. She whispered encouragements into Christen’s hair as she cried, lulled her to sleep with reassurances and tried her hardest to build her soulmate up with constant praise. And after a couple days, she got them both on the first plane out of Brazil. 

Being home to her apartment in Portland felt like a breath of fresh air after the suffocating failure of Rio. Christen immediately fell asleep, emotionally and physically exhausted from the insanity of the past couple months. Tobin simply busied herself cleaning up slightly and unpacking their bags so that they wouldn’t have to do it later. Within a couple hours she was fast asleep right next to Christen, spooning the younger woman. 

Christen finally stirs in the early hours of the next morning, just as the sun rises. Tobin had been awake for a while prior, but was completely content to just take it all in and reflect on everything that had happened.

“Are you okay?” Tobin asks as she strokes her hand across Christen’s tattoo once the other woman’s eyes are fully open. She can't hide the worry in her voice, especially after the way Christen fell straight into the bed, utterly drained. 

It takes a minute for the younger woman to answer. “I will be,” she finally whispers, letting out a deep breath. “Honestly, I don't want to think about it right now. I think I've had my fill of crying for a couple days,” she laughs dryly. Christen turns over so that their legs are intertwined and her eyes can connect with Tobin's. “I just want to be here with you,” Christen murmurs. 

“Yeah?”

“Of course.” Tobin can feel a grin forming when she takes in Christen's words, and she brushes her lips against the palm of the other woman's hands. Christen's eyes flutter shut at the soft touch, and Tobin has to pause for a moment to simply take in how beautiful her soulmate is. “Do you remember what you told me in my first offseason?” Tobin just hums, preoccupied with the little sounds that escape Christen as she continues lightly tracing her hand over the tattoo on her upper arm. “You said ‘you’re gonna blow everyone away’,” Christen whispers. 

“And I meant it. You blow me away every day.” Christen smiles shyly when she takes in Tobin’s words, and the sight reminds Tobin of something she had seen in the airport the day before. “Oh, Chris, did you know that there’s a hashtag trending for you?” She receives a questioning glance, but in no time Tobin has #DogsforChristen pulled up on Twitter. 

They spend the rest of the morning tangled in each other, looking through the hashtag and letting everything else in the world melt away. There’s something powerful in knowing you’ve found your person, Tobin decides.

There’s something powerful in knowing that she’ll get to spend her entire future with this person. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if y'all have as many feelings as i do! i sure am a sucker for soulmate shit

**Author's Note:**

> would this have been better as a longer series? perhaps. is it too late now? most likely. would i like your validation? yes desperately please tell me how you feel about this thank you.


End file.
